Chased Away

I joined Chase before it merged with J. P. Morgan and when it was still a lousy investment bank. Some of my colleagues, graduates of business schools I had never heard of, liked to drape the broad length of their Hermès ties over one shoulder, with the narrow length dangling down their chest—a look that suggested that they were too busy to worry about appearances, although, in reality, we had very little work. This meant that my colleagues and I could go shopping at lunchtime, stopping at Pink for shirts of Egyptian broadcloth or Sea Island cotton, or at Johnston & Murphy for shoes. I kept my purchases to low-cost luxuries, like cashmere socks. I did this because I assumed we would all be fired. It seemed obvious that one day somebody would realize that we shouldn’t be paid a hundred thousand dollars a year to shop.

Also, there were regular rumors that Chase was going to merge with J. P. Morgan or Merrill Lynch or Goldman Sachs. Whenever the rumors started, bankers huddled around the Bloomberg terminals and all the bathroom stalls filled with people worrying about their finances. Our anxiety was reasonable: most of us were at Chase because those other institutions had declined to hire us.

But even within Chase there were a few groups that were as good as those at any other investment bank, and toward the end of my first year I was thrilled to get the chance to work in the Structured Finance group. Their job was to market tax and accounting strategies, to companies like Enron. Before joining Structured Finance, I had never even talked to a client or gone to a client meeting. Within weeks of starting there, I flew to Houston several times and began work on seven or eight transactions. I was helping companies dodge taxes, but at least the work mattered to somebody.

I had been accepted into Structured Finance because I had gone to law school and primarily studied tax. But, not having gone to business school, I was underqualified for the work that I was actually doing. Like many people, when I’m nervous I try to be likable. It’s a rare person who will hire an incompetent simply because he’s fond of them, but enjoying someone’s company does make it easier to appreciate qualities such as hard work—and I was working very long hours. After two months, I was offered a permanent position. I was so surprised and happy that as soon as I received the news I called my mother and my friends.

Two weeks later, I was told that I would have to leave.

I had created an Excel model for Bob, the head of our group. The model contained a flaw that was discovered the night before the client meeting. A colleague told me that I would probably be moved to a different group. I offered her my interpretation of the events, but she didn’t want to hear excuses. Bob had gone on vacation, so I left him voice messages, hoping to persuade him to keep me on; he didn’t return them. Bob called the office four or five times a day while he was away; I would hear his voice bouncing through the cubicles around me like the ball on a roulette wheel. One afternoon, my phone rang. It was Bob, in high spirits. He was in Napa, he said. He wanted to know which wineries to visit. I offered my suggestions, then he hung up before I could ask about my job.

A week later, when Bob returned from vacation, he was too busy to see me. Every day, he arrived at the office early and had meetings and conference calls until nine at night. From my cubicle, in front of his glass-fronted office, I would watch this large, muscular man eat skinless chicken for lunch and dinner as voices came from the speakerphone.

Naturally, as soon as I learned that I’d be out of Structured Finance, I started leaving the office at five to look for another job. But I kept hoping that Bob would reconsider. I persuaded colleagues to leave messages on his voice mail testifying to their contentment with my work. Several days after Bob returned from vacation, he finally opened his door and beckoned me into his office.

Although Bob was from New Jersey, he often spoke with a Southern drawl, because so many of his clients were oil companies. He had never used it with me, but now the drawl came out, and with it the altruistic good advice that one never hears in any job until one is beyond help: I needed to find something that made me happy, he said, that gave me satisfaction.

Bob smiled and looked at me with genuine pleasure. After a moment, he stood up. I kept sitting just to make him uncomfortable. Then I got up and left. ♦

Akhil Sharma is the author of “Family Life,” which is now out in paperback. He is an assistant professor in the English department at Rutgers-Newark.